Eskimo Folk-Tales — Tales 26-32

And as she burst, a steam rose up out of her, and turned to fog, which still floats about to this day among the hills.

THE MAN WHO AVENGED THE WIDOWS

This was in the old days, in those times when men were yet skilful rowers in kayaks.

You know that there once came a great sickness which carried off all the older men, and the young men who were left alive did not know how to build kayaks, and thus it came about that the manner of hunting in kayaks was long forgotten.

But our forefathers were so skilful, that they would cross seas which we no longer dare to venture over.

The weather also was in those times less violent than now; the winds came less suddenly, and it is said that the sea was never so rough.

In those times, there lived a man at Kangârssuk whose name was Angusinãnguaq, and he had a very beautiful wife, wherefore all men envied him.

And one day, when they were setting out to hunt eider duck on the islands, the other men took counsel, and agreed to leave Angusinãnguaq behind on a little lonely island there.

And so they sailed out to those islands, which lie far out at sea, and there they caught eider duck in snares, and gathered eggs, and were soon ready to turn homeward again.

Then they pushed out from the land, without waiting for Angusinãnguaq, who was up looking to his snares, and they took his kayak in tow, that he might never more be able to leave that island.

And now they hastened over towards the mainland.

And the way was long.

But when they came in sight of the tents, they saw a man going from one tent to another, visiting the women whom they left behind at that place.

They rowed faster, and came nearer.

All the men of that place had gone out together for that hunting, and they could not guess who it might be that was now visiting among the tents.

Then an old man who was steering the boat shaded his eyes with his hand and looked over towards land.

"The man is Angusinãnguaq," he said.

And now it was revealed that Angusinãnguaq was a great wizard.

When the umiaks had left, and he could not find his kayak, he had wound his body about with strips of hide, bending it into a curve, and then, as is the way of wizards, gathered magic power wherewith to move through the air.

And thus he had come back to that place, long before those who had sought his death.

And from that day onwards, none ever planned again to take his wife.

And it was well for them that they left him in peace.

For at that time, people were many, and there were people in all the lands round about.

Out on the islands also there were people, and these were a fierce folk whom none might come near.

Moreover when a kayak from the mainland came near their village, they would call down a fog upon him, so that he could not see, and in this manner cause him to perish.

But now one day Angusinãnguaq planned to avenge his fellow-villagers.

He rowed out to those unapproachable ones, and took them by surprise, being a great wizard, and killed many of the men, and cut off their heads and piled them up on the side bench.

And having completed his revenge, he rowed away.

There was great joy among the widows of all those dead hunters when they learned that Angusinãnguaq had avenged their husbands.

And they went into his hut one by one and thanked him.

THE MAN WHO WENT OUT TO SEARCH FOR HIS SON

Once in the days of our forefathers, a man went out along the coasts, making search for his son.

For that son had gone out in his kayak and had not returned.

One day he saw a giant beside a great glacier, and rowed up to him then.

When he had entered the house, the giant drew forth a drum, a beautiful drum with a skin that had been taken from the belly of a man.

Now the giant was about to give him this drum, but at the same time he felt such a violent desire to eat him up, that he trembled all over.

Just then some great salmon began dropping down through a hole in the roof, and the man was so frightened at this that he could scarcely eat.

And he could not get out of the place.

But he was himself a great wizard, and now he began calling upon his helping spirits.

And they were great.

"Killer whales, killer whales--come forth, my helping spirits and show yourselves, for here is one who desires to eat me up."

And they came forth, and the house was crushed and the giant was killed, and the man set out again in search of his own.

Then he met another big man, and this man did nothing but eat men, and their kayaks he threw down into a great ravine.

The man rowed up to this giant.

And when he reached him, the man-eater said: "Come here and look," and led him to the deep ravine.

And when the man looked down, the giant tried to thrust him backwards down into the depth.

But the man caught hold of the giant's legs and cast him down instead.

And then he went on again.

And as he was rowing on, he heard the bone of a seal calling to him: "Take away the moss which has stopped up the hole that goes through me."

And he did so, and went on again.

Another time he heard a mussel at the bottom of the sea crying: "Here is a mussel that wishes to see you; come down to the bottom;

row your kayak straight down through the water--this way!"

That mussel wanted to eat him.

But he did not heed it.

Then at last one day he saw an old woman, and rowed towards her, and came up to her.

And she said: "Let me dry your boots."

And she took them and hung them up so high that he could not reach them.

The man would have slept, but he could not sleep for fear.

"Give me my boots," he said.

For it was now revealed that she was a man-eater.

And so he got hold of his boots and fled down to his kayak, and the woman ran after him.

"If only I could catch him, and cut him up," she said.

And as she spoke, the kayak nearly upset.

"If only I could send a bird dart through her," said the man.

And as he spoke, the woman fell down on her back and broke her knife.

And then he rowed on his way.

And on his way he met a man, and rowed up to him.

"See what a skin I have stretched out here," said the stranger.

And he knew at once it was his son's kayak.

The stranger had eaten his son, and there was his skin stretched out.

The man therefore went up on land and trampled that man-eater to death, so that all his bones were crushed.

And then he went home again.

ATUNGAIT, WHO WENT A-WANDERING

Atungait, that great man, had once, it is said, a fancy to go out on a sledge trip with a strong woman.

He took a ribbon seal and had it flayed, and forbade his wife to scrape the meat side clean, so that the skin might be as thick as possible.

And so he had it dried.

When the winter had come, he went out to visit a tribe well known for their eagerness in playing football.

He stayed among them for some time, and watched the games, carefully marking who was strongest among the players.

And he saw that there was one among them a woman small of stature, who yet always contrived to snatch the ball from the others.

Therefore he gave her the great thick skin he had brought with him, and told her to knead it soft.

And this she did, though no other woman could have done it.

Then he took her on his sledge and drove off on a wandering through the lands around.

On their way they came to a high and steep rock, rising up from the open water.

Atungait sprang up on to that rock, and began running up it.

So strong was he that at every step he bored his feet far down into the rock.

When he reached the top, he called to his dogs, and one by one they followed by the way of his footsteps, and reached the top, all of them save one, and that one died.

And after that he hoisted up his sledge first, and then his wife after, and so they drove on their way.

After they had driven for some time, they came to a place of people.

And the strange thing about these people was that they were all left-handed.

And then they drove on again and came to some man-eaters;

these ate one another, having no other food.

But they did not succeed in doing him any harm.

And they drove on again and came to other people; these had all one leg shorter than the other, and had been so from birth.

They lay on the ground all day playing ajangat.

[10] And they had a fine ajangat made of copper.

Atungait stayed there some time, and when the time came for him to set out once more, he stole their plaything and took it away with him, having first destroyed all their sledges.

But the lame ones, being unable to pursue, dealt magically with some rocky ridges, which then rushed over the ice towards the travellers.

Atungait heard something like the rushing of a river, and turning round, perceived those rocks rolling towards him.

"Have you a piece of sole-leather?"

he asked his wife.

And she had such a piece.

She tied it to a string and let it drag behind the sledge.

When the stones reached it, they stopped suddenly, and sank down through the ice.

And the two drove on, hearing the cries of the lame ones behind them: "Bring back our plaything, and give us our copper thing again."

But now Atungait began to long for his home, and not knowing in what part of the land they were, he told the woman with him to wait, while he himself flew off through the air.

For he was a great wizard.

He soon found his house, and looked in through the window.

And there sat his wife, rubbing noses with a strange man.

"Huh!

You are not afraid of wearing away your nose, it seems."

So he cried.

On hearing this, the wife rushed out of the house, and there she met her husband.

"You have grown clever at kissing," he said.

"No, I have not kissed any one," she cried.

Then Atungait grasped her roughly and killed her, because she had lied.

The strange man also came out now, and Atungait went towards him at once.

"You were kissing inside there, I see," he said.

"Yes," said the stranger.

And Atungait let him live, because he spoke the truth.

And after that he flew back to the strong woman and made her his wife.

KUMAGDLAK AND THE LIVING ARROWS

Kumagdlak, men say, lived apart from his fellows.

He had a wife, and she was the only living being in the place beside himself.

One day his wife was out looking for stones to build a fireplace, and looking out over the sea, she saw many enemies approaching.

"An umiak and kayaks," she cried to her husband.

And he was ill at ease on hearing this, for he lay in the house with a bad leg.

"My arrows--bring my arrows!"

he cried.

And his wife saw that all his arrows lay there trembling.

And that was because their points were made of the shinbones of men.

And they trembled because their master was ill at ease.

Kumagdlak had made himself arrows, and feathered them with birds' feathers.

He was a great wizard, and by breathing with his own breath upon those arrows he could give them life, and cause them to fly towards his enemies and kill them.

And when he himself stood unprotected before the weapons of his enemies, he would grasp the thong of the pouch in which his mother had carried him as a child, and strike out with it, and then all arrows aimed at him would fly wide of their mark.

Now all the enemies hauled up on shore, and the eldest among them cried out: "Kumagdlak!

It is time for you to go out and taste the water in the land of the dead under the earth--or perhaps you will go up into the sky?"

"That fate is more likely to be yours," answered Kumagdlak.

And standing at the entrance to his tent, he aimed at them with his bow.

If but the first arrow could be sent whirling over the boats, then he knew that none of them would be able to harm him.

He shot his arrow, and it flew over the boats.

Then he aimed at the old man who had spoken, and that arrow cut through the string of the old man's bow, and pierced the old man himself.

Then he began shooting down the others, his wife handing him the arrows as he shot.

The men from the boats shot at him, but all their arrows flew wide.

And his enemies grew fewer and fewer, and at last they fled.

And now Kumagdlak took all the bodies down by the shore and plundered them, taking their knives, and when the boats had got well out to sea, he called up a great storm, so that all the others perished.

But the waves washed the bodies this way and that along the coast, until the clothes were worn off them.

Here ends this story.

THE GIANT DOG

There was once a man who had a giant dog.

It could swim in the sea, and was so big that it could haul whale and narwhal to shore.

The narwhal it would hook on to its side teeth, and swim with them hanging there.

The man who owned it had cut holes in its jaws, and let in thongs through those holes, so that he could make it turn to either side by pulling at the thongs.

And when he and his wife desired to go journeying to any place, they had only to mount on its back.

The man had long wished to have a son, but as none was born to him, he gave his great dog the amulet which his son should have had.

This amulet was a knot of hard wood, and the dog was thus made hard to resist the coming of death.

Once the dog ate a man, and then the owner of the dog was forced to leave that place and take land elsewhere.

And while he was living in this new place, there came one day a kayak rowing in towards the land, and the man hastened to take up his dog, lest it should eat the stranger.

He led it away far up into the hills, and gave it a great bone, that it might have something to gnaw at, and thus be kept busy.

But one day the dog smelt out the stranger, and came down from the hills, and then the man was forced to hide away the stranger and his kayak in a far place, lest the dog should tear them in pieces, for it was very fierce.

Now because the dog was so big and fierce, the man had many enemies.

And once a stranger came driving in a sledge with three dogs as big as bears, to kill the giant dog.

The man went out to meet that sledge, and the dog followed behind him.

The dog pretended to be afraid at first, but then, when the stranger's dog set upon it in attack, it turned against them, and crushed the skulls of all three in its teeth.

After a time, the man noticed that his giant dog would go off, now and again, for long journeys in the hills, and would sometimes return with the leg of an inland-dweller.

And now he understood that the dog had made it a custom to attack the inland-dwellers and bring back their legs to its master.

He could see that the legs were legs of inland-dwellers, for they wore hairy boots.

And it is from this giant dog that the inland-dwellers got their great fear of all dogs.

It would always appear suddenly at the window, and drag them out.

But it was a good thing that something happened to frighten the inland-dwellers, for they had themselves an evil custom of carrying off lonely folk, especially women, when they had lost their way in the fog.

And that is all I know about the Giant Dog.

THE INLAND-DWELLERS OF ETAH

There came a sledge driving round to the east of Etah, up into the land, near the great lake.

Suddenly the dogs scented something, and dashed off inland over a great plain.

Then they checked, and sniffed at the ground.

And now it was revealed that they were at the entrance to an inland-dweller's house.

The inland-dwellers screamed aloud with fear when they saw the dogs, and thrust out an old woman, but hurried in themselves to hide.

The old woman died of fright when she saw the dogs.

Now the man went in, very ill at ease because he had caused the death of the old woman.

"It is a sad thing," he said, "that I should have caused you to lose that old one."

"It is nothing," answered the inland-dwellers; "her skin was already wrinkled; it does not matter at all."

Then the sledges drove home again, but the inland-dwellers were so terrified that they fled far up into the country.

Since then they have never been seen.

The remains of their houses were all that could be found, and when men dug to see if anything else might be there, they found nothing but a single narwhal tusk.

The inland-dwellers are not really dangerous, they are only shy, and very greatly afraid of dogs.

There was a woman of the coast-folk, Suagaq, who took a husband from among the inland folk, and when that husband came to visit her brothers, the blood sprang from his eyes at sight of their dogs.

And they train themselves to become swift runners, that they may catch foxes.

When an inland-dweller is to become a swift runner, they stuff him into the skin of a ribbon seal, which is filled with worms, leaving only his head free.

Then the worms suck all his blood, and this, they say, makes him very light on his feet.

There are still some inland-dwellers left, but they are now gone very far up inland.

THE MAN WHO STABBED HIS WIFE IN THE LEG

There was once a man whose name was Neruvkâq, and his wife was named Navaránâ, and she was of the tunerssuit, the inland-dwellers.

She had many brothers, and was herself their only sister.

And they lived at Natsivilik, the place where there is a great stone on which men lay out meat.

But Neruvkâq was cruel to his wife; he would stab her in the leg with an awl, and when the point reached her shinbone, she would snivel with pain.

"Do not touch me; I have many brothers," she said to her husband.

And as he did not cease from ill-treating her, she ran away to those brothers at last.

And they were of the tunerssuit, the inland-dwellers.

Now all these many brothers moved down to Natsivilik, and when they reached the place, they sprang upon the roof of Neruvkâq's house and began to trample on it.

One of them thrust his foot through the roof, and Neruvkâq's brother cut it off at the joint.

"He has cut off my leg," they heard him say.

And then he hopped about on one leg until all the blood was gone from him and he died.

But Neruvkâq hastened to put on his tunic, and this was a tunic he had worn as a little child, and it had been made larger from time to time.

Also it was covered with pieces of walrus tusk, sewn all about.

None could kill him as long as he wore that.

And now he wanted to get out of the house.

He put the sealskin coat on his dog, and thrust it out.

Those outside thought it was Neruvkâq himself, and stabbed the dog to death.

Neruvkâq came close on the heels of the dog, and jumped up to the great stone that is used to set out meat on.

So strongly did he jump that his footmarks are seen on the stone to this day.

Then he took his arrows all barbed with walrus tusk, and began shooting his enemies down.

His mother gave him strength by magic means.

Soon there were but few of his enemies left, and these fled away.

They fled away to the southward, and fled and fled without stopping until they had gone a great way.

But Navaránâ, who was now afraid of her husband, crept in under the bench and hid herself there.

And as she would not come out again, her husband thrust in a great piece of walrus meat, and she chewed and gnawed at it to her heart's content.

"Come out, come out, for I will never hurt you any more," he said.

But she had grown so afraid of him that she never came out any more, and so she died where she was at last--the old sneak!